With Fire and Sword by Henryk Sienkiewicz (big ebook reader .txt) ๐
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Goodwill in the seventeenth century Polish Commonwealth has been stretched thin due to the nobilityโs perceived and real oppression of the less well-off members. When the situation reaches its inevitable breaking point, it sparks the taking up of arms by the Cossacks against the Polish nobility and a spiral of violence that engulfs the entire state. This background provides the canvas for vividly painted narratives of heroism and heartbreak of both the knights and the hetmans swept up in the struggle.
Henryk Sienkiewicz had spent most of his adult life as a journalist and editor, but turned his attention back to historical fiction in an attempt to lift the spirits and imbue a sense of nationalism to the partitioned Poland of the nineteenth century. With Fire and Sword is the first of a trilogy of novels dealing with the events of the Khmelnytsky Uprising, and weaves fictional characters and events in among historical fact. While there is some contention about the fairness of the portrayal of Polish and Ukrainian belligerents, the novel certainly isnโt one-sided: all factions indulge in brutal violence in an attempt to sway the tide of war, and their grievances are clearly depicted.
The initial serialization and later publication of the novel proved hugely popular, and in Poland the Trilogy has remained so ever since. In 1999, the novel was the subject of Polandโs then most expensive film, following the previously filmed later books. This edition is based on the 1898 translation by Jeremiah Curtin, who also translated Sienkiewiczโs later (and perhaps more internationally recognized) Quo Vadis.
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- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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โBut the horse will be ours, Lieutenant?โ put in, with an inquiring tone, the sergeant.
โDog believer! would you deprive a Christian of his horse in the steppe?โ
โBut it is our bootyโ โโ
Further conversation was interrupted by stronger breathing from the suffocated man.
โPour gorailka into his mouth,โ said the lieutenant, undoing his belt.
โAre we to spend the night here?โ
โYes. Unsaddle the horses and make a good fire.โ
The soldiers hurried around quickly. Some began to rouse and rub the prostrate man; some started off for reeds to burn; others spread camel and bear skins on the ground for couches.
The lieutenant, troubling himself no more about the suffocated stranger, unbound his belt and stretched himself on a burka by the fire. He was a very young man, of spare habit of body, dark complexion, very elegant in manner, with a delicately cut countenance and a prominent aquiline nose. In his eyes were visible desperate daring and endurance, but his face had an honest look. His rather thick mustache and a beard, evidently unshaven for a long time, gave him a seriousness beyond his years.
Meanwhile two attendants were preparing the evening meal. Dressed quarters of mutton were placed on the fire, a number of bustards and partridges were taken from the packs, and one wild goat, which an attendant began to skin without delay. The fire blazed up, casting out upon the steppe an enormous ruddy circle of light. The suffocated man began to revive slowly.
After a time he cast his bloodshot eyes around on the strangers, examining their faces; then he tried to stand up. The soldier who had previously talked with the lieutenant raised him by the armpits; another put in his hand a halbert, upon which the stranger leaned with all his force. His face was still purple, his veins swollen. At last, with a suppressed voice, he coughed out his first word, โWater!โ
They gave him gorailka, which he drank repeatedly, and which appeared to do him good, for after he had removed the flask from his lips at last, he inquired in a clear voice, โIn whose hands am I?โ
The officer rose and approached him. โIn the hands of those who saved you.โ
โIt was not you, then, who caught me with a lariat?โ
โNo; the sabre is our weapon, not the lariat. You wrong our good soldiers with the suspicion. You were seized by ruffians, pretended Tartars. You can look at them if you are curious, for they are lying out there slaughtered like sheep.โ
Saying this, he pointed with his hand to a number of dark bodies lying below the height.
To this the stranger answered, โIf you will permit me to rest.โ
They brought him a felt-covered saddle, on which he seated himself in silence.
He was in the prime of life, of medium height, with broad shoulders, almost gigantic build of body, and striking features. He had an enormous head, a complexion dried and sunburnt, black eyes, somewhat aslant, like those of a Tartar; over his thin lips hung a mustache ending at the tips in two broad bunches. His powerful face indicated courage and pride. There was in it something at once attractive and repulsiveโ โthe dignity of a hetman with Tartar cunning, kindness, and ferocity.
After he had sat awhile on the saddle he rose, and beyond all expectation, went to look at the bodies instead of returning thanks.
โHow churlish!โ muttered the lieutenant.
The stranger examined each face carefully, nodding his head like a man who has seen through everything; then he turned slowly to the lieutenant, slapping himself on the side, and seeking involuntarily his belt, behind which he wished evidently to pass his hand.
This importance in a man just rescued from the halter did not please the young lieutenant, and he said in ironyโ โ
โOne might say that you are looking for acquaintances among those robbers, or that you are saying a litany for their souls.โ
โYou are both right and wrong. You are right, for I was looking for acquaintances; and you are wrong, for they are not robbers, but servants of a petty nobleman, my neighbor.โ
โThen it is clear that you do not drink out of the same spring with that neighbor.โ
A strange smile passed over the thin lips of the stranger.
โAnd in that you are wrong,โ muttered he through his teeth. In a moment he added audibly: โBut pardon for not having first given thanks for the aid and effective succor which freed me from such sudden death. Your courage has redeemed my carelessness, for I separated from my men; but my gratitude is equal to your goodwill.โ
Having said this, he reached his hand to the lieutenant.
But the haughty young man did not stir from his place, and was in no hurry to give his hand; instead of that he saidโ โ
โI should like to know first if I have to do with a nobleman; for though I have no doubt you are one, still it does not befit me to accept the thanks of a nameless person.โ
โI see you have the mettle of a knight, and speak justly, I should have begun my speech and thanks with my name. I am Zenovi Abdank; my escutcheon that of Abdank with a cross; a nobleman from the province of Kiev; a landholder, and a colonel of the Cossack regiment of Prince Dominik Zaslavski.โ
โAnd I am Yan Skshetuski, lieutenant of the armored regiment of Prince Yeremi Vishnyevetski.โ
โYou serve under a famous warrior. Accept my thanks and hand.โ
The lieutenant hesitated no longer. It is true that armored officers looked down on men of the other regiments; but Pan Yan was in the steppe, in the Wilderness, where such things were less remembered. Besides, he had to do with a colonel. Of this he had ocular proof, for when his soldiers brought Pan Abdank the belt and sabre which were taken from his person in order
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